In my previous job, I supported a bunch of people using a certain application. That wasn't actually my job, I just did it out of the kindness of my heart. I got the same questions all the time, so I sent out a Frequently Asked Questions document with the answers to the most common questions. People still stopped by my office all day long to ask me the same questions. So, I printed out a stack of the FAQs and left them on the corner of my desk. When someone came by to ask me one of those questions I would grab a copy of the FAQ, highlight the relevant section, and hand it to them. Without saying a word. Is that, like, totally undeniably, unforgivably bitchy, or just a handy time saver for me?

In a concession to my rapidly-approaching 30th birthday, about a month ago I started wearing makeup every day. Well, at least on work days. Ok, almost every day on work days. Occasionally I just can't be bothered. I've never really been a makeup kind of girl. I went through the whole baby blue eye shadow phase in Junior High, but that was about the end of it. If I was going out to dinner somewhere nice I might occasionally see my way clear to break out the eyeliner and lipstick, but not always. I've had a few rounds of trying to at least wear mascara to work every day, but I always end up forgetting and giving up.

So I've changed my ways. Now, I'm talking pretty basic stuff here - no four different shades of eye shadow for me - but I am doing things like using foundation, which was a major step for me. I don't think it's really obvious, but I do think I definitely look different. Nobody has noticed. Nobody. Not one single, solitary person. At first I wondered if I just looked like a clown and people were being nice, but there are people in my life who would let me know. So now I think that it doesn't really look any different and I am wasting my time. Either that, or possibly nobody actually looks at me. I'm wearing a clown nose all day today to test that theory - I'll let you know how it goes.

As a side effect, however, I now have two big honking zits on my chin. I've named them Albert and Victoria, because really they are so big and red and shiny they deserve to be royalty. I blame the makeup entirely. I'm sure it has nothing whatsoever to do with stress or the fact that I have been forgetting to use my Magic Zit Potion or that I haven't gone to the gym in 2 weeks or the Crazy Random Hormone Mood Swing pills that I was taking (in that they tend to cause crazy random hormone mood swings, not that they are intended to treat crazy random hormone mood swings).

Also, how is it that I totally slack off on the gym thing for 2 weeks, ok, 2 and a half weeks, and lose 4 pounds? And also how is it that I lose 4 pounds and yet my butt gets bigger? Can anyone explain that to me, or should I donate my butt to science? And since we are already speaking of my butt, I have a pulled butt muscle. From bowling. How embarrassing is that?

I'm just so girlie today - hopefully it will clear itself up soon.

I have many shortcomings. In fact, I have so many that I am considering making a list and using that as my "100 Things." I think that would be rip-snortingly funny, but I'm afraid that nobody else would see the humor. Um, where was I? Oh yes, I have many shortcomings, but when it comes to interviewing I rock the casbah.

I had an interview this morning. They loved me. I was impressive and erudite and clever. I bantered! Wittily! I gave concrete examples to demonstrate my skills and experience, and some of them were even true. I was smart. My god, after 4 months of turning my brain into mush by staring at spreadsheets I had totally forgotten that I was smart! I even flashed a little leg just to make up for the fact that my face looked like it had spent the weekend as a doormat. I can do this! I am not going to die sad and alone and under-employed! It was a deeply moving experience.

Sadly, I am not at all qualified for the position. Oh well, can't have everything.

I got about 20 minutes of sleep last night, but I look like it was less. My eyelids are so puffy I can barely open my eyes, I have a big honking zit on my chin, I'm having a very bad hair day and half the hem is falling out of my skirt. I have a thing on my neck that totally looks like a hickey, which it is not. I only vaguely recall why I'm here and what I'm supposed to be doing and I am very far from coherent.

I have an interview at 10:00.

Quick, somebody! Give me impressive things to say! Also, would someone please read my resume and make up stories to back my "experiences"? I knew that when I wrote it, just can't remember any at the moment.

Ever have one of those days where it feels like everything in the world is about you? I'll give you a for instance. Say your best friend told you that she was a vampire. Because she is your best friend and you love her, you would try your best to understand and to stick by her. But then say you went to the bookstore and every other book seemed to be about vampires. You may wonder, is this more common than I think? Does everyone, sooner or later, have a best friend who turns out to be a vampire? Is there no hope? Do no best friendships survive without vampirism? Then you think, maybe it's all a joke. Maybe you are the only person in the world with a vampire best friend, but everyone else thinks the possibility is really funny. Maybe if you tell anyone that your best friend is a vampire they will laugh at you and mock you and tell their friends about you at cocktail parties.

I had one of those days today - where everything seemed to be pointing at me and threatening to expose my secrets. Am I just too self-absorbed? Does this happen to you?

I almost forgot! As we were leaving for lunch last Friday, these arrived.

For those of you playing along at home, that's four dozen. Now, I'll bet that half of you are thinking that my husband is very sweet and the other half of you are thinking he must have done something pretty bad to be so far in the doghouse that it took four dozen roses to get out of it. Well, at least half of you are right.

They were beautiful and made the whole house smell wonderful. Thanks, honey.

Sweet Jesus. Is anybody tired of me yet? Personally, I am sick unto death of listening to me whine. So let's have done with it - poor little me, the big bad world has done me wrong. Gnashing of teeth, etc., etc. Enough - done. Time to choose my attitude and all that, let's talk about something else.

But first, let's talk about how amazing and lovely you people are. I heart every one of you. Thanks for helping.

I've pretty much decided that the phantom stomach slash side slash back pain is definitely appendicitis. However, I have a four day weekend next week so I am trying to put off the surgery until after that. If you want to send me flowers in the hospital, my favorite flowers are tulips and my favorite color is purple. If you have trouble finding tulips, being out of season and all, you are welcome to send bouquets of wine instead.

So here's the thing - I'm going to New York in October and need an entirely new wardrobe before I go. The last time I was there I could have stamped "tourist" on my forehead and it would not have made the fact any more obvious. This time, I'm determined to be cool. We went to New York for our honeymoon and are going back for our fifth anniversary. The difference is that when we got married we were very poor. Our entire combined income was less than I make myself now (and let's all hope that my employer never figures out how overpaid I am since all I do all day anymore is blog). On our honeymoon, we had $500 to spend for the week. Now, that is slightly more than I would like to pay for a fancy dinner. (Well, ok, it is considerably more than I would like to spend for a fancy dinner, but you get the idea.)

And so once I again I need your help. What should we do while we are there? And much more importantly, where should we eat? We did lots of the tourist stuff last time, and will do more this time but I would also like to do and see some things that are off the beaten tourist track. I'd like to see at least one off-Broadway show. I want to eat lots of scrummy, delicious, vegetarian things. We're going to Becco on our anniversary (if I ever remember to make the reservation) but other than that I'm open to suggestions. Suggestions, anyone?

Is it bad that I wore a brown jacket with black shoes today just so I wouldn't have to change to my brown purse?

I hope somebody else brought the funny today, because I think I left mine in my other purse.

As a child, I was taught what to do when someone hurt me or wronged me. I was taught to forgive and forget, turn the other cheek, do unto others. I was never taught what to do with the anger. I wonder sometimes if little boys are taught how to be angry and it is just little girls who are taught that you should not raise your voice or throw things or hold grudges. It seems there is always at least an implication that an angry woman is a harridan, a harpy, a bitch.

Wait, I was taught one thing about anger. Don't get mad, get even. Fine, sometimes, but not always appropriate.

The last couple weeks have been pretty emotional for me, but mainly what I feel now is angry. The anger is the only thing I don't know what to do with, the thing that the world seems to tell me I should get over, should not feel.

Anger at some random person is easy enough, because you don't have to get over it, at least not quickly. You can decide that person is not worth knowing, someone you don't want in your life. You can close the door and let the anger evaporate gradually, you can move on.

But as they say, you only hurt the ones you love. So what do you do when someone you love makes you so angry you could pop? After the explanations and the apologies, where do you put the anger? You are not supposed to stay angry, after all, you are supposed to forgive and forget. And apparently, you are supposed to forgive and forget immediately. The apology is supposed to solve the problem and you are supposed to go merrily along like nothing ever happened.

I reject that, and I've embraced a different clich‚. I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore.

God, that's liberating.

This morning, I noticed that I had raccoon eyes from yesterday's mascara. I thought it was a little odd since I had washed my face last night and this morning, but whatever I'll just wash it off. Turns out it was not mascara after all, just the bags under my eyes. Is Heroin Chic still in? Because if it is, baby I've got it going ON.

How can I have a closet (ok, several closets) full of clothes and still only have 6 summer tops that I can wear to work?

I had a business lunch yesterday and I carried the conversation for almost the entire time. I'm not usually the one who carries the conversation in these situations; I leave that to the peppy bubbly people. I'm usually the one who sits on the edge and answers direct questions or occasionally contributes a sarcastic comment or an unfunny joke. However, yesterday nobody else stepped up to the job and there is only so long that you can sit and listen to five people chew before you go batshit so I jumped in to save the day. After going around the table asking everyone probing questions like "So, how long is your commute?" and "So, where did you buy your shoes?" I think I lost it a little bit. I jumped up on the table and screamed "For the love of all that is holy, would you people please make a little effort to have more personality than a bunch of rocks!" That broke the ice and it was better after that. I have to meet with HR about it this afternoon, but I still think it was worth it.

I would like to take this opportunity to mention that you should all begin immediately to love and admire Casey. Since I am a detail-oriented person, at least according to my resume, I will give you three very good reasons for this. Number One: She promised to eat lunch with me in the cafeteria at Blogsville High School. Number Two: Even with the high level of crappiness in both our lives lately, she always manages to find the positive in the situation. This can be really annoying when you are trying to wallow in self-pity, but it is also an excellent quality and one that I am working to emulate. Number Three: She said that when I meet her boyfriend I can say "Hi, Sailor" to him.

Did I ever tell you about my sleep obsession? It seems relevant now since I'm not actually sleeping more than three hours a night. Occasionally I will have this dream, or something, that I'm sleeping wrong. I'll wake up and become obsessed with the idea that however I have been sleeping is the incorrect way to do it and then will be unable to fall back asleep. If I do fall back asleep I'll wake myself up again just to check whether or not I was doing it correctly. This does not make me a whack job, because clearly lately I have been sleeping wrong and it is causing me to wake up every morning at 1 AM on the dot and be unable to go back to sleep until 15 minutes before I'm supposed to get up and go to the gym. Anybody have any brilliant and wonderful ideas on how to stop this and actually sleep? Other than heavy drinking because, you know, that's not the answer to anything and also I already tried it and it didn't work.

Also, does anybody know which side your appendix is on? I've had this stomach slash side slash back pain for a couple weeks now, but it keeps moving around and switching sides. I'd like to know where, exactly, my appendix is so I can focus my psychosomatic symptoms there and have something concrete to obsess over.

Also also, gmail gave me more invites! I'm starting to hate gmail a little bit, and I'm also tired of looking at these sad and lonely and unused invites all day. So if you want one, let me know. Good complimenting of my cats yesterday, by the way. Today the price of an invite is you have to recommend a major and serious disease which could be the source of my phantom and portable stomach slash side slash back pain. Treatable diseases only please because otherwise you will make me cry. Not-enough-cute-shoe-itis would be a good one, for example.

Ok, let's talk about something that doesn't suck, just for a change.

Last Friday, I my very own self had lunch live and in person with the Amazing and Beauteous Dawnie. And also my husband. And you know how sometimes you get to know someone online and they seem great and then you meet them in person and they turn out to be lunatic bitches? That is not at all what happened with Dawnie. Dawnie is even more Amazing and Beauteous in person than she is on the internet and I think I will start a Dawnie Cult. Or maybe just a Dawnie Fan Club to start off with and see how if goes and then if it catches on we can upgrade to cult status.

I will even give you three very excellent examples of why you should all join the Fan Club. Number one, Dawnie ran through the city in 90 degree heat carrying her suitcase just to have lunch with us. That's dedication. Number two, Dawnie did not make fun of me for losing my cell phone in my car no more than five minutes after I used the cell phone and not having set foot outside the car the entire time and then being unable to locate my cell phone for over an hour until I called it to check my messages and heard it ringing from my purse. Number three, we are going to conquer Rhode Island and that is just the beginning of our world domination plan so you may as well join up before we get to your state and force you to comply with our every whim.

(I promise that one of these days I'll go back to at least making an effort in the grammar arena rather than stringing together a bunch of run-on sentences interspersed with sentence fragments. But not today.)

On a totally unrelated topic, I'm drowning in gmail invites. If anybody wants one, leave me a comment with a valid email address or email me and also tell me how precious and clever my cats are just to butter me up a little bit. If you hate cats you can tell me a joke instead, but I have to warn you if the joke isn't funny it will be counted against you in my evaluation of your worthiness for one of my gmail invites. If nobody wants them I am going to give them to the cats and also one to my fish, Consuelo. Actually, I may do that anyway just to see what sort of email he gets. (I think gmail invites are going the way of AOL cds, but the gmail invites cannot be used as coasters and therefore are not as useful.)

Well, let's see. What's been going on?

The afternoon after I posted my last entry a bird shit on me. It seemed so appropriate, given the way things have been going for me lately and it was sort of like final evidence that the universe in general was shitting on me.

Gosh, bitter much?

But other than that things have been great. Well, no, ok. that was a total lie. But as much as I love you all and want to make out with many of you and am even actually formally betrothed to one of you, there are some things that ya'll just do not want to hear me whine about because they are so sad and pitiful that you would immediately sink into a great depression in sympathy for me and I just cannot have that on my conscience. Seriously, I am expecting to be made into a Lifetime Original Movie Event in the near future. Which is why I decided to take a break from this thing, which I intended to be longer, but dammit I miss you people. So then I was going to come back and just do a bunch of happy bullshit but I tried to write that and it sucked because it was, you know, bullshit.

So let's just say that if all the things going on lately were not too ridiculous and pitiful and frankly outrageous to discuss and if I did tell you all about it in great detail you would all feel very very sorry for poor little me and the rash of shit which I did not deserve but which I have been served anyway. And then you would all buy me chocolate and wine and flowers and a new kitten which I would name Constantinople Jones but nickname Poopy Head and you would tell me I'm pretty and funny and brilliant and your hero and that you want to have my babies at the first possible opportunity and that if anyone is ever mean to me again you will hold them down while I beat them up and then I will be happy and will never cry again and will email you pictures of the kitten eating the flowers you bought me and will share my chocolate. But I will not share my wine.

So. Let's pretend that we did all that. And then let's pretend we did it all again but all about you this time because I'm not selfish like that and also because I know that lots of people have it lots worse than me, but do you know how hard that is to remember sometimes? And then let's tell jokes. I'll go first.

Two nuns are riding their bicycles to church and are forced to take a detour through an old, little used street. "I've never come this way before," says the first nun. The other replies, "It's probably the cobblestones."

I'm going to be away for a little while kids, will miss you all.

And now the moment that one or two of you have been waiting for - the truth behind the lies!

I have never set foot in a strip club.

If I could have any job in the world, I would be an astronaut.

The smell of peonies makes me physically ill. My favorite scent is Ten O Six astringent because it reminds me of a camp I attended as a kid.

I hate country music. I like just about everything else.

I did attend a June 1992 Grateful Dead show at RFK, but due to the previously mentioned illegal activities I have only a vague recollection at best. I do have happy and wonderful music memories, but my strongest memories tied to music are all very difficult or negative times in my life. I think in times of trouble music has the power to soothe and to comfort and even occasionally to help you look ahead to more positive times.

My cat Callie weighs 6 pounds. My cat Pixel weighs 18 pounds. Callie wipes the floor with Pixel every single time.

When I started this site, I intended to change the quote every week. So far I have only had three quotes.

I was born in California, but moved to the DC area when I was six months old. Other than college, I have never lived anywhere else.

I don't like hot weather and I can't stand the South - people there just aren't uptight enough for me.

The fish story was totally made up, but the real story is one of those "had to be there" kind of things so I'm not going to tell it right now. I'll figure out how to make it amusing sooner or later and post the full scoop.

No more than 2 kids - no way no how.

Here you are folks, the sometimes true and sometimes totally made up answers to your burning questions. I think it worked out to be about evenly divided between truth and lies. I'll revisit this one more time tomorrow and give the honest answers to the ones I made up, unless I decide I like the lie better than the truth in which case I will incorporate the lie into my personal mythology and never admit that it was every any other way.

I started planning out this entry very early this morning when I was lying in bed unable to fall asleep. I thought it was a really clever idea. When I woke up this morning, I realized that my really clever idea was basically just something I stole from Mir, except not as clever. However, as I've mentioned before I have no shame, so I'm going to do it anyway. See, there's just nothing going on in my life right now that would make a good entry, so I'm going to try some audience participation instead. The idea is that you ask questions in the comments to this post and I will answer them in my next post. The questions can be about anything you like, and the only catch is that my answer to each question will either be 100% accurate, honest and true or will be a bald-faced lie. Then if we aren't all so bored with this that we're ready to jump out the window, I may decide to identify the truth and the lies in a third post. Best case scenario, I get three cheap and easy posts that are not entirely tedious and dull. Worst case scenario, we've all gotten sick of this before we even finished reading this post and nobody will ask me questions and my pretend celebrity boyfriend will dump me and I will be so upset I will cry and my mascara will run. So really people, the fate of my mascara is entirely in your hands.

I had forgotten how much smoking a pack of cigarettes a day kills your appetite. I quit smoking years ago, other than an occasional relapse at Happy Hour and a few weeks here and there in times of stress. I've been smoking like a fiend since Friday night. On Saturday, I had dinner at my favorite restaurant. The servings there are not huge and we always finish everything we order. This time, we brought home at least half of every dish. Last night, while staring at the second half of the burrito that I could not possibly eat, I had a sudden realization. This is why I weighed 105 lbs. all through college.

I never had any kind of eating disorder, but when I went to college (and started seriously smoking) my weight plummeted. I just looked it up, and 105 is an average weight for a small framed person who is 4'9" tall. I'm 5'6". Weighing 105 at 5"6" is not attractive. It means collarbones that stick out so far they cast shadows, being able to clearly see your ribs - all of them, even the floaters at the bottom - from the front and the back, and a pelvis that collects puddles in the shower. It means swimming in size 2 clothes. It means strangers walking up to you and telling you to eat a sandwich.

I weigh considerably more than that now, although I'm still fairly thin, I suppose. I work out a lot, but I never diet. I look better and I feel better, although there are lasting health effects to being that underweight for that long. Body image, however, is a whole different story. People frequently comment on how skinny I am, and I am still occasionally advised to eat a sandwich, but my image of myself was set at 105. I always feel like I'm overweight. On a good day, I think I need to lose 5 pounds, on a bad day, I think I need to lose 20. Last night, when I realized that smoking had probably caused my weight loss, I stopped to consider for a minute how much weight I could lose if I started smoking again.

I'm back on the wagon again, no more smoking. But I wonder sometimes whether anyone really has an accurate and healthy idea of their own body. And if anyone does, I really wish they would tell me how they did it.

You should always look at what you're eating.

Blech.

Microsoft Help is no help whatsoever.

Yesterday, we received our phone bill, which was twice as much as it usually is. Turns out, the fuckwits at the phone company had not posted our payment from last month so were charging us for that and for a late fee. Now I pay the bills at our house and I am an uptight, overbearing freak about it. I pay all bills. On time. Every time. I take it very personally when some faceless monopolistic soulless corporation accuses me of not paying my bills. I am an upstanding, rule-following, bill-paying citizen. I am so protective of my credit rating you would think it was my child. (It pisses me right the hell off that my husband has a better credit score than I do, when if left to his own devices he would have eleventy billion cds and no electricity.) Anyway, I was furious. I was irate. I was incensed, splenetic, exacerbated and pissed.

I didn't pay the phone bill last month. I mean, I meant to pay it. Apparently I sent the phone bill money to the high speed internet people and then just called it a day. Maybe this is a little sign from the universe to me that I need to, you know, relax or something?

Dear Boss,

You know how you like to call me or IM me or email me to ask me to look things up for you? Things where you have just as much access to the information as I do? Where you could get the information yourself in 10 seconds, rather than taking the time to call or IM or email me, explain what you want, and then wait for me to look it up and send it back to you? Could I make a helpful suggestion on how we may be able to streamline and simplify this process to our mutual benefit?

Look it the fuck up yourself.

Regards,
Beth

Let's talk about stress reactions, shall we? Now, I do just fine with work stress - I actually function a lot better at work if I am under piles and piles of stress and have 18 things to do at once. But stress in real life? Not so good for me. My first reaction to real life stress is to freak out about something totally unrelated to whatever is bothering me. As a totally made-up example, say I'm worried about buying groceries. Once I get good and hysterical about the grocery issue, I will grab the nearest person and have a total hissy fit about mowing the lawn. What's that? Buying groceries and mowing the lawn have nothing to do with each other? Exactly. This drives me crazy (and ok, is probably not too endearing to others) but I do it every single time. Even knowing that I'm obsessing on the wrong thing doesn't help, I just keep right on going.

Does anybody else do this, or am I just insane?

There's a fax machine right outside my office that has not worked in about 9 months because the phone line was disconnected. When I first realized the fax was not working, I put a helpful sign on it to alert my coworkers so they would not try to use it and leave the thing beeping outside my office all day. The sign didn't work, people ignored it. So then, I called the helpdesk and asked them to come up and install a new phone line. They did, it worked once, and then for some unknown reason it stopped working again. I put the sign back up and would cheerfully notify people who ignored the sign and used the fax that it was broken. Since I never used the fax and had already devoted minutes and minutes to solving the problem, I felt it was someone else's turn to take the initiative and call the helpdesk.

Anyway, the sign has since disappeared and I am apparently the only person in the building who has figured out that the fax is broken and has been for 9 months. Now it's a popularity contest outside my office door. If I like you? I will cheerfully remind you that the fax machine doesn't work and suggest you go down the hall to the next one. If you aggravate the crap out of me? Happy Faxing!

This has proven to be an excellent system for me since there are only two types of people in this world; the people who I love madly and want to take to lunch or maybe make out with a little bit, and the people who annoy the ever-living crap out of me. I am all about absolutes. (I love all of you by the way, wanna make out?)

I am totally stressed out and having to devote a lot of energy to maintaining a constant state of low-grade panic, therefore I have very little attention to spare to devote to coming up with coherent posts. I'm just going to post some random thoughts until the page looks kinda full and then I will go back to freaking out about something or other full time.

There is a 2 lb. package of raw chicken in the fridge in my office. Well, not in my actual office, the fridge in the kitchen down the hall from my office. This disturbs me on a number of levels.

I ironed before coming to work this morning. I never iron anything, and one of the main factors that keeps me from looking for a new job is that in my current job I rarely wear anything that needs to be ironed. For some reason this morning, I decided that I needed to wear a new skirt I got last week that had to be ironed before I could wear it. I think it was a stress reaction. When I put the skirt on it still had the tags on it so I pulled them out over the waistband so I would remember to cut them off. Obviously I came to work with the tags still on the skirt and still hanging out over the waistband in back.

Last night in yoga class we were instructed to "blossom our buttocks." I'm not entirely clear on how one would accomplish that feat. We were also told that we were being supported by the same force that supports the stars and the planets. To me, that means that we live in a vacuum, but maybe physics is different for the crazy yoga lady.

I am very frightening at 5 am. I'm considering taking a picture of myself tomorrow morning and selling it as the basis for a fright mask for Halloween. No kidding people, not something you want to meet in a dark alley.

I'm going to the optometrist tonight after work and to the gynecologist first thing tomorrow morning. I'm really focusing on not getting these two things confused.

I know I write about the gym a lot, but I spend a lot of time there trying to keep my butt from collapsing onto the back of my thighs. When I leave every morning, the guy at the desk asks me if I had a good workout. This really annoys me for no good reason that I can explain.

Wow - I just went from a perfectly fine mood to a shit mood so fast I think I gave myself whiplash.

Ow.

So, yes this weekend was lovely and we had beautiful weather and good times and all that, but it was still VERY UPSETTING! Why, you may ask? It was VERY UPSETTING because I googled Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend and found that I am not the first site returned. I am the 5th site returned and I just cannot have that. I admit that my pretend celebrity boyfriend may not be the most famous pretend celebrity boyfriend, and he may not be the most handsome pretend celebrity boyfriend, and he may not have the best pretend celebrity boyfriend teeth, but dammit he is going to be at the very top of the google pretend celebrity boyfriend list if I have to post about nothing but my pretend celebrity boyfriend every day for the next month.

(How is it that my spell check doesn't recognize google of googled? Catch up spell check people!)

Even more upsetting, the first site returned isn't even ABOUT pretend celebrity boyfriends! I think the owner of that first site must be sleeping with the google guys or something just to take my rightful place at the top of the pretend celebrity boyfriend list.

I am a woman on a mission and I will not rest until my darling Clive has achieved the pinnacle of pretend celebrity boyfriend success, which really is better than winning an Oscar, even.

We are having people over for dinner tonight. This is the first time in the two years we have been in our house that we have hosted dinner for anyone who is not a blood relative. Why is that? I tend to freak out a little bit. For example, tonight our guests are coming at 7 and I was ready at 6:30. To pass the time I've been washing the walls. If I had been ready 45 minutes early I probably would have slapped up a fresh coat of paint before they arrived.

They really need to get here soon so I can start drinking.

I was planning to think of something witty and clever to say, but have decided that's too much effort and this is my website so if I want to just put up a picture of my cat for no reason whatsoever I can do it. So there. I was also going to think up some threat to use to force everybody to tell me how pretty she is, but Callie is secure enough that she doesn't need to fish for compliments. So there. Again.

I'm working from home today because, um, we have a delivery coming, or something? And, uh, my husband was supposed to stay home? But at the last minute? He found out he had a meeting? Or something? So he had to, uh, go to work? Yeah, that's right. That's exactly what happened.

The fact that it is gorgeous and sunny and 68 degrees and I am using the new wireless network to work on the deck has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that this very important delivery is happening today. Nope, total coincidence.

So, now that I have that whole Celebrity Boyfriend thing straightened out, I think it's time to tell you about my Non-Pretend Non-Celebrity Boyfriend. His name is Ralph Jones and he lives in Nowhere, Missouri. Ralph has an account with the company I work for and has been having some problems with his invoice lately. A couple of weeks ago, through a process that I still to this day do not fully understand, Ralph got ahold of me and decided that I was the answer to all of his prayers.

Ralph told me all about his problem with his invoice. I recommended to Ralph that he might want to talk to the people in Billing who could actually do something about his problem. Ralph said he had called them, but they weren't very friendly and he didn't think they were going to help him.

Then Ralph told me about his daughter. Then Ralph told me about the company he used to work for before he retired. Then Ralph told me about the cruise he and his wife took last Spring.

Finally, I promised Ralph that I would talk to the Billing people for him and would call him back in a week to let him know what I had found out.

Ralph called me the next day to read me an ad from his newspaper that he thought might be a better deal for him than the deal he has from my company. Ralph wanted to know what I thought.

Ralph called me the day after that to tell me about his neighbor and also about some car trouble he's been having.

Ralph called me the day after that to ask me if I had given any more thought to that ad he read to me two days ago and also to read me an article from the paper that he thought I would enjoy.

I finally got Ralph taken care of and his invoice fixed. Ralph called me to tell me everything was a-ok and asked if I would give him a call back. I haven't called him back. I'm trying to dump him without hurting his feelings and I think if I just stop returning his calls he'll get the message and leave me alone. If that doesn't work, I'm going to have my friend Sally call Ralph's friend Billy and tell Billy to tell Ralph that I'm breaking up with him.

Ralph called me 4 times yesterday and didn't leave a message. Ralph has called 5 times today, so far. Ralph is starting to creep me out just a little.

Oh no, I am so bad! I completely forgot to credit Samantha for the brilliant and winning Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend recommendation. I would also like to recognize Heather for seconding the nomination and helping to build Clive's credibility as a serious candidate. Thanks ladies! As your reward, you can have him just as soon as I'm done.

First, I want to thank you all for helping and supporting me in this very difficult time. I appreciate the effort and thought you all put into the more than 60 yummy boys you recommended for the position of my new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend.

This has been a very tough decision. Part of the difficulty is that that I still really want to pick Jude, because I've loved Jude so long it's hard to walk away. Why did you have to turn out to be a schmuck, Jude? Why?

Also, I should have said from the beginning that I am not considering rock stars. For one thing, I'm already married to a rock star so having a rock star Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend just seems a little redundant. Also, if I were going to choose a rock star it would be Dave Matthews and frankly, that is not up for discussion. I don't even care what he looks like because his voice is so amazing that sometimes when I hear it I have to go lie down for a few minutes to recover. That's why I love Dave Matthews always and forever and also why I don't listen to him on the treadmill anymore. Don't lie down on the treadmill people, take it from me.

I'm sticking firmly to the nobody under 30 rule, even though that eliminates so many worthy competitors. I'm just not ready for a boy toy yet, and when I am I plan to do it right, a la Demi and Ashton.

Jason Bateman does nothing for me. Matthew McConaughey makes me twitch, and not in a good way. I'm saving Johnny Depp for later because he just keeps getting better and I don't think he's done yet. Ewan McGregor lost me with the mountain man on a motorcycle look. Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, and Hugh Grant are too mainstream and as an added bonus Hugh is too slimy. John Cusack will always be Lloyd Dobler to me and I love him for that and don't want to ruin what we already have together.

All of these options have sort of confused and upset me. So, while I have made a choice, I'm not willing to commit my undying love because now I'm worried that I'll change my mind and regret my choice and it will be just another bad relationship which will make both of us unhappy and we will end up hating each other and not even be able to remember the things that made us fall so madly in love in the first place. No, instead I'm taking this one slow and am just saying that this is my Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend "for now," and we'll just have to wait and see how it goes and then later if it's working out we can talk about the loving forever and ever until the shark jumping.

And so, without further ado, my new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend is:

People, I'm here today to ask for your help. You see, now that John and I have broken up, I'm in need of a new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend. This is a little difficult for me, because for years now I have thought that once John and I finally called it quits, Jude would be waiting in the wings to take over this important position. But sadly, Jude recently walked out on his pregnant wife and I just can't tolerate that kind of behavior in my Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend. I also briefly considered taking up with Orlando, but I've decided that he's too young, too mainstream, and that I really only like him dressed as an elf anyway.

And so, my friends, I am turning to you in my time of need. Will you please help me find a new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend? I think it will be very easy if we all work together. I'll give you some guidelines, you will all submit nominations, I'll choose my new Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend from among your recommendations and he and I will have a dedicated, long term relationship right up until the day that his career or looks jump the shark.

The guidelines are simple. I tend to prefer that my Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend be a little older (before John, I spent many happy years with Sean until he developed that poofy red old man eye thing). Now that I'm a little older I'm willing to consider someone closer to my own age, but under no circumstances will I consider any Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend who is younger than 30. I like someone prominent, but no megastars because I refuse to share my Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend with every girl in town. I'm pretty open-minded as far as looks go, provided he is either devastatingly attractive or knicker-twistingly sexy. (Truth be told though, I've always had a soft spot for blonds.)

That's it. Now I need your help. Please don't let me down people, I'm counting on you to get me through this difficult time!

John? John, we need to talk. I don't know quite how to say this but, well, I saw Johnny English this weekend. At first, I was so excited. I didn't even know you were in that movie. I thought it was one of those sweet little things you do to surprise me. I should have known better, I see that now. But I couldn't help it, I got my hopes up. I saw you and I thought we were going to have a wonderful time for 80 minutes or so and you would be sexy and evil and maybe even funny. You let me down, John, you really did.

It had such potential too. You were the villain. You were the privileged, self-absorbed, egomaniacal villain that we both know you do so well. But then there was that fake French accent. And the Prince Valiant hairdo. And the not evil and not funny and really (I'm so sorry to say this) the not sexy. There was that one point where I thought you were going to pull it out too, if only for a minute. Where you threw yourself down sideways in that chair and struck a pose of utter boredom and disaffection. But that's all it was, John, a pose. There was no fire there, no nastiness, no evil.

John, I think this is the end for us. No please, let me finish. It just hasn't been the same the last few years. You went your way and I went mine and we're just less there for each other. I have to admit that I don't even see all your movies anymore. I'm sorry, John, I know that hurts. But really, how long has it been since you have done our kind of movie? Be honest now. The truth is that we both stopped trying. I can't keep pretending that you are giving me what I need, and you can't keep making the same movie over and over again just to keep me happy. It's time to move on.

And remember, we'll always have Valmont.

Guess what? More poetry! Not mine this time, so you can breathe a sigh of relief. Here's what I've had on the brain today.

"A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

(Also, as an aside, you wanna know one of the more annoying things about me? I always know whether a title should be underlined or in quotation marks, and I always insist upon doing it correctly. Seventh grade English, I think.)

(Also also, are the Belgians especially known for their linens? I booked a hotel in NYC today and they made a big deal over the fact that they have Belgian linens.)